By Nourhan Ibrahim
“This was from my graduation, and this was for my birthday. My friend made it!” my friend said as she showed me the things displayed in her room. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that 90% of the items displayed were given by others. Dried graduation flowers and photos of the places she had been to, each carrying their own memories. I turned to her. “It’s like that one post! You’re a mosaic of everyone you ever loved!”
The post in question originated from Tumblr and circulates widely on social media. The idea is, in essence, the same as the concept of patchworks. Both patchworks and mosaics evoke imagery full of deliberation. When I think of how you become a patchwork of the people you love, it’s quite subtle and unintentional. Suddenly, you use their vocabulary. You see something they like and get so excited as if you are the one who likes it, and all that is in a similar vein. One could argue that the seams are sewn and strengthened by the bonds between you and those you love. A fair argument to make, yet it doesn’t capture the deliberation that comes to mind, more specifically, what comes to my mind when I think of patchworks.
When I tried to think of the patchworks in my life, I was stuck. I couldn’t really tell what mannerisms of mine were borrowed. Maybe I have acquired the patchworks for so long that they have become part of my skin, indistinguishable from me. Interestingly, I can think of clear patchworks in my life, but they weren’t taken from people. They were taken from things. Even more interesting was that I could see the physical manifestation of my patchworks.
One thing about me is that I have never had fleeting interests; with each interest, I feel a strong need to possess. In the first years of school, the choice of school bag felt so significant. Of course, part of that could be because seven-year-old me had yet to make any significant decisions. But part of it was a subconscious awareness that my choice of bags reflects on me. I am to display what I love the most, so I have to be sure that what people see is true to me.
I’m happy to say that, despite gaining self-awareness of this habit, I am still the same. All-consuming interests have remained a constant in my life, typically taking the form of a show, band, or book series. Simple consumption never satisfied my hunger; I always needed a physical manifestation: a pin, a poster, something to hold onto. The question is: why is this even necessary? It’s not like I need to remind myself that I like something. I already know. But the posters, fitting neatly next to each other, are, in every sense, my patchwork. One that I actively sew together and then display. These patchworks become much more than what I like; they become who I am. Because, for the most part, I am what I love. Sometimes, I find myself picking up the language of my interests. My thoughts echo the narrative voice, and even my perception of the world bends to whatever passion I’m immersed in at the time.
What is most interesting about this experience is that it’s not unique to me. If you look around campus, you’ll easily spot keychains and pins attached to bags. If you’ve spent any time online in geeky spaces, you’re probably familiar with Funko Pop collectors or other figure and doll enthusiasts, like Barbie doll collectors. Recently, people have become obsessed with Sonny Angels, Labubus, and just about any collectible item out there. Collections have always existed, but the current intensity of obsession feels distinctly new. Part of the thrill of collecting Labubus, for example, comes from the blind box aspect, but that’s a whole other can of worms.
In fact, thinking about these things brings to mind an image filled with plastic boxes. It’s not an exaggeration to say that geeky spaces, and now popular culture too, are plagued by Patchwork Consumerism. I call it Patchwork Consumerism rather than pure consumerism because it carries a lot more personal feelings. This ownership isn’t just about the love of buying or consuming; it’s also about reaffirming something essential about one’s own identity in a way that feels deliberate and physical. The physical manifestation of one’s interests and identity is often more valuable and easier to understand. It’s like the feeling you get after crocheting a big blanket and wrapping yourself in it. There’s comfort in being surrounded by the things that make you, you.
That said, this doesn’t negate the fact that Patchwork Consumerism is, at the end of the day, still a form of consumerism and doesn’t excuse its environmental impact. The world has long been overwhelmed by consumer culture, and it was only a matter of time before identity became so deeply tied to consumption in ways many don’t stop to question.
I’m not here to judge, not only because I, too, am guilty of Patchwork Consumerism, but also because I want to better examine this phenomenon. It becomes clear that Patchwork Consumerism is unique when you consider that people don’t just want to own these items; they want to display them in ways that show others these things are part of their interests and identity. Keychains on bags, for example, have been a great way to find like-minded people. For me, especially at this university, they’ve been central to building connections.
Although Patchwork Consumerism has its flaws, the way it creates community is unique. Part of what people seek when they engage in it is the moment someone says, “Oh, I love your keychain! I also like that show!” which often leads to refreshing small talk or even the start of a dear friendship. While the desire to indulge and own a lot can sometimes feel overwhelming, a few keychains on your bag can do the job.